


Fish Dicks

by akgerhardt



Series: SFW [16]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: An Unethical Amount of Fish Puns, Healing, Lance tries to vore plastic trash, M/M, Magic, MerMay, Mermaid/Merfolk AU, Mild Injuries/Whump, Transformation, Xeno
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-02-10 13:48:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 7,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18661657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akgerhardt/pseuds/akgerhardt
Summary: Keith is sentenced to community service and gets more than he bargained for- specifically, an injured dolphin dude.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> https://oceanconservancy.org/trash-free-seas/international-coastal-cleanup/volunteer/

It was a shitty vacation- arguably, the shittiest. You can't blame him for choosing to sneak out after dark and spraypaint his signature symbol into the sand... Ok, maybe you can, because it wasn't even permanent. It lasted just long enough for the coastguards to see during their nightly patrol. To add to the stupidity, he didn't think anyone would be around then, so he kicked back and cracked open a couple cold ones. He may not have much freedom, but at least he's old enough to do that legally.

He was beyond hammered by the time the spotlight woke him. Stumbling to his feet, he attempted to flee but forgot the way back. The ground force on duty easily caught him, yet he still threw a couple punches. It was pretty damn embarrassing.

Trespassing, possession of alcohol in a public place, vandalism, AND aggravated assault. He’s damn lucky that his home paid bail. The judge gave off a surprising amount of hippie vibes for someone employed by the government and opted for "poetic justice," since the toxins he introduced polluted the marine ecosystem. He was sentenced to a year of community service, under probation. Fortunately, he’s allowed to live on his own, rent-free in a shack far away from everyone. Unfortunately, he’s stuck there and forced to use a dumb raft boat to scoop up trash when he’s not cleaning up the shore. At least the officers don't bother breathing down his neck- he just checks in with them at the end of each day to sort the recyclables at the single township building, which is part police station, part sanitation center, part court, part firehouse, and part clinic. He suspects that they don’t have a lot of funds to work with, especially considering that most "employees" work in multiple sections as needed. He makes a mental note not to go there if he gets sick so that he doesn't have to worry about a dump truck driver with the knowledge of a 6-month health certification course assessing him.

The thing that sucks the most about all of this is the fact that he’s scared shitless of the ocean and barely knows how to swim. 


	2. Chapter 2

Who knew that life vests actually worked? Not Keith. He's grateful that he was forced to wear one each time he went out into the water.

As per his typical impulsivity, he attempted to escape within the first week. Trash be damned, he had no intention to stick around and endanger himself. 

Of course, he ended up endangering himself far more by rowing out to the middle of nowhere on a dinky inflatable boat with nothing more than a bag of dollar store food and four Monsters. He lasted less than two days before completely screwing himself over. His solar charger had stopped working due to the salt air, but Google Maps couldn't help him this far from the cell towers, anyway. The map from the tourist kiosk outside the police station was ultimately useless, as he has no sense of direction. It was supposed to take a couple hours max to get to the next town, and now he's utterly lost.

Considering that he’s out of sustenance, dehydrated, exhausted from rowing, and overheating, he'd swallow his pride and wave down the coastguard copter at first sight. Unfortunately, it doesn't seem to fly this far from shore, even if there's a dude MIA. Maybe they assumed he bolted on land and took the aquatic gear for the hell of it, or maybe they're just too short-staffed to bother looking for a graffiti punk. Whatever.

He realizes that he’s going to get heat stroke if he doesn't dunk underwater to cool off. He waits 'til the last possible minute to do so, unbuckling his vest and glancing into the dark depths apprehensively before jumping in. It went about as well as you'd imagine. 

His raft flipped over in the process, he panicked, and it drifted away as he tried to grab on, the ripples caused by his flailing only making it float further out of reach. He soon lost his remaining energy and the will to keep at his half-assed doggy paddle.

He’s too tired to even bother reflecting on his life, but he probably wouldn't either way. He attempts to keep his head above the surface until he loses consciousness.


	3. Chapter 3

That day, "fishy lips" gained a new meaning.

Keith comes to groggily, just in time for another chest pump. He winces, but his vocal cords refuse to work. By the time he can open his eyes, the salty mouth has already descended upon him again, forcing more air in. He manages to heave himself upright once the dude lets up.

      "Oh, hey! You’re awake!!!"

He ignores him in favor of hacking up water and what he had hoped to be be bits of seaweed but were actually shreds of plastic bag. Ew, god, why? The sliver of a smiley face laying on the sand provides no comfort.

After several minutes of coughing and gagging, he lets the merman support him and just focuses on catching his breath. His throat hurts like hell, but at least he can talk now.

"... Thanks. Where am I? Who are you?" 

      "The name's Blue Lancerfish, and you're right here, in my arms... I saved your life, babe~" he winks, flashing a sharp-toothed grin.

He musters every ounce of strength to shove him, promptly falling back on his ass. 

Now seems like a pretty good time to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

He wakes to a pile of assorted plastics on an abalone shell, garnished with balloon ribbon.

"Uh."

      "For you! Figured you'd be hungry after... all of that. Bone app the teeth!"

"The gesture's appreciated, but that shit is inedible."

      "Ugh, you humans are so picky!" he grumbles.

Oh, right, he’s a merman. Keith should be more surprised than he is, but he always nutted over cryptid lore. However biologically implausible merfolk might be, he refused to reject the possibility of their existence.

"... Have you met other humans?"

      "Never talked to one 'til now, but you guys are  _everywhere_. At least you're nice enough to leave your leftovers for us! Those fancy places with the heaps of food and trucks send the best snacks over."

Wait, holy fuck.

"You’re not-"

The blue lancerfish helps himself to a chip bag, shredding it into pieces and munching away cheerfully. 

"That’s trash!"

      "Says you."

"No, it’s literally garbage!"

       "Yeesh, rude... Dunno what you're gettin' at. I'm not judging you for having too-high standards."

Keith snatches the remainder of the bag, pulling the shell out of reach.

      "Hey!"

"Lance. Can I call you Lance? ... Listen, I don’t know how you're not dead from eating that on a regular basis, but you have to stop."

      "Why? It’s so much easier than catching fish! There aren't many left these days, so everyone eats this stuff."

"... Everyone?"

      "Yeah, even the seagulls and clams!"

"Jesus Christ... I read about sea life dying from plastic, but I didn't think it was  _that_ bad."

Lance wiggles his fins, raising a brow.

      "... You’re pretty serious, huh. I guess I'll take a break, but what the heck else am I supposed to eat? I don’t mess with the already-dead things that wash up."

He ponders, still deep in thought.

"Can you commune like Aquaman and tell everyone else to stop?"

      "Uhhhhh... no? Not sure who that is, but I can only talk to mers. Besides, most of them aren't even trying to eat it. They swim around with their mouths open like nets and get the floaters."

Keith grimaces, poking the nearest plastic bag. There's a metric shitload of trash in the vicinity, more washing up with each wave. He realizes that they're in some sort of above-ground cove. 

"... Do you live here?"

      "Nah, you were too heavy to haul far."

He flips him off, but Lance seems oblivious to the gesture.

      "I'm not calling you a whale- this bod just doesn't work like it used to."

...

For the first time, Keith actually looks him over. He’s dazzling with various hues of blue scales adorning tan skin, luminescent markings, neck and rib gills, ear and elbow fins, webbed fingers, sharp teeth and claws, and a host of additional nonhuman quirks. His tail resembles that of a dolphin in shape, but it's floppy and adorned with the same scales and fin patterns as the rest of his body. He's definitely flashier and more obnoxious than a dolphin, but Keith will settle for that comparison.

While overall a fascinating and majestic creature, he appears emaciated, and his tail is embedded with fishing lines, hooks, and even netting, warranting an empathetic wince from Keith. 

      "... Like what you see~?"

"Debatable."

      "Oh, oh, I forgot! I saved your tail."

"I think you mean "ass," but you told me that already and I thanked you for it."

He ignores him in favor of dragging himself behind the boulder that he had propped Keith up against, revealing his raft and vest.

"Holy shit, I'm not going to die here." 

      "I got your "plastic," too, but I kinda ate it as payment. Hope you don't mind."

"Nah, it's fine... You need serious help, though."


	5. Chapter 5

Getting back was an... adventure, to say the least. Like most adventures, it involved great peril and a significant amount of stress. Nonetheless, they managed to head in the right direction and made it there safely. 

During their journey, Lance demonstrated a variety of supernatural quirks, from instinctive navigation to the ability to split his tail into two pseudo-legs. Once they arrive, Keith begrudgingly takes off his clothes to let Lance waddle around in them, showcasing his hideous E.T. boxers. Better to draw attention to a half-naked dude than a cryptid, should they even run into anyone.

Thankfully, they don't. They arrive at Keith's shack, and Lance promptly makes himself at home. Keith passes right the fuck out in bed after drinking from the faucet for several minutes. He wakes to a soaked carpet and the contents of his fridge strewn around. He stumbles weakly into the bathroom to find Lance chilling in the tub with a box of fish sticks. 

      "Mornin', Sleeping Beauty."

"... How do you know that reference?" he mumbles, shutting the curtain so he can relieve himself in private.

      "What reference?"

"Nevermind. Uh, need anything while I'm out?"

      "A metric fuckton of salt and fish. Also, more of these things!"

The officers are surprisingly lenient about his disappearance and seem to believe the story about getting swept away to an adjacent island, as there was an unexpected storm the night that he left. He declines the clinician's offer for examination, hurrying off before she can insist. He collects significantly more trash than usual and takes care to sort the bags for proper recycling at the grocery store. Just looking at them makes him feel sick, to the point that he buys a couple cheap reusables to bring his purchases home in. It’s not a moral decision so much as an attempt to avoid future nauseating flashbacks. 

Lance is delighted to try canned tuna, anchovies, and sardines. He’s sampled just about everything else he possibly could in the house, including soap and shaving cream. Keith gives him a strict educational lecture and tells him that electronics and outlets are also off-limits. He listens distractedly, face shoved in another frozen fish stick box while he pours more salt into the water. Keith just sighs, proceeding to cover the floors with plastic paint tarps. Lance slips as soon as he sets flipper on one, which prompts him to construct paths made out of bath mats.

He’s not really sure what to do at this point. The dude stopped clogging his toliet with trash after a couple days, and he seems to be getting stronger. Keith bought a dozen bottles of fish antibiotics before using pliers, tweezers, and his pocketknife's blade and scissors to gradually remove the hooks, netting, and lines from his poor tail. He put on a brave face, claiming that he was once bitten by real dolphins in a gang fight and didn't even cry. Keith finds every part of that statement hard to believe.

Google is their best friend- Lance's because he's curious and amazed at technology, and Keith's because he has a million and one questions about this shit. WikiHow, a marine rehab site, and fish forums prove to be the most informative sources. 

Keith got a backup (waterproof) used phone for Lance and hooked it up to the WiFi, which he appreciated. It helps keep him occupied and out of trouble while Keith does side jobs to afford the ridiculous amount of fish that he requires each week. If Keith had to catch that much himself, he definitely would have been inclined to let him eat junkfood instead. 


	6. Chapter 6

It's four in the morning, and Lance is still at it with his "Ok Google" shenanigans. Even if the bathroom wall wasn't glorified cardboard, he talks like he's yelling to someone on the other side of the room and has the text-to-speech reader at the max volume. He’s not even hard of hearing; he can detect the faintest noises both indoors and out. How does the loudness not bother him, and why can't he have ears that are human enough to wear headphones? Most importantly, is it necessary for him to cackle like a literal dolphin when he knows Keith is trying to sleep? 

Keith groans in tired exasperation, pillow held tight around his head. Yeah, he owed the dude for saving his life, but he’s starting to have regrets and wonder just what he got himself into. His tail is healing nicely, but he's becoming more of a roommate than a patient. Keith doesn't anticipate that the eventual eviction will go over well.

It’s been like this since he first learned how to use the phone- before that, he was just bored and nosy as hell, dicking around with Keith's stuff and making a mess out of the shack. A distraction rectangle seemed like the logical solution- he can't read or write, obviously, but that hasn't yet been an issue. Sometimes he plays games or marathons YouTube videos, and other times he has these pseudo-conversations at odd hours. He claims that his fishy perks allow him to sleep with one half of his brain at a time, but Keith has repeatedly caught him conked out in the tub like a seal on a rock. 

Nothing about him makes sense.

Keith is resigned to another sleepless night, staring up at the cracks in the ceiling like one might attempt to decipher cloud shapes. The biggest kinda looks like a spaceship if he squints... Another looks like a furry gone wrong-

      "Ok, Google: Is a blowjob when you stick your schlong in someone's blowhole? ... Wait, do humans even have blowholes?! ... Oh. Huh, whadoyaknow."

"For fuck's sake, Lance..." he mutters. Like usual, Lance ignores him.

After an hour or so of weird/dumb questions and silence from Keith, he lowers his voice. 

      "Ok, Google, tell me: Am I the last fish dude alive?"

...

      "No, I mean- forget it. How could a human doohickey know that?" he sighs.

A minute later, he tries again. 

      "Ok, Google: "Mermaid" sightings, are they real, Purple Veronicafish-" 

He sounds fucking heartbroken the more he carries on in vain. Finally, Keith knocks on the door.

      "Fine, I'm done."

"I just need to piss."

      "Go for it, buddy. Knock yourself out. Shoot for the stars."

Lance draws the curtain, phone discarded on the floor. 

...

"You're alone, aren’t you?"

      "Well, aren’t you a smarty pants? Emphasis on the pants."

"... Can I ask what happened?" 

      "You really wanna know? Because it sucked oysters."

He nods, forgetting that Lance isn't looking. 

"If you're comfortable talking about it."

      "... Our fleet was big when I was young, but they all died off or disappeared, one by one. I was probably next before you swooped in. 

       The boats take all of the fish they find and then toss their, uh, "fishing" stuff when they can't use it anymore. I found my tia on the bottom of the ocean in some nets, my little brother got hooked with bait and didn't heal, my cousins were caught in some gross sludge, my other cousins were poisoned by shiny water, and- and the rest we never figured out were probably from the plastic stuff. When the sea down south got too hot to live in, my parents and older sis followed the cooler currents with me, but only she and I survived the trip. Then we got separated in a huge storm, and I ended up here... Part of me wants to believe she's still out there, but that would be stupid."

...

Keith scoots closer, hesitantly opening the curtain to pat his shoulder. He feels like a fish out of water when it comes to displaying affection, let alone comforting, but he doesn’t know what else to do. Lance barely acknowledges it aside from giving an appreciative glance, lost in brooding.

      "I guess I got carried away when you brought me here. Sorry for being such a fish dick."

"It's fine. I just need sleep."

      "I'll be quiet from now on when you want shuteye, and I promise I'll get out of your hair once you think I'm better."

"... I mean, you don't have to leave completely. I think we'd both be happier with you not cooped up in a tiny tub and trashing the place, but you’re... a pretty, uh, cool guy, albeit insufferable. We can work something out. Besides, I don't have a "fleet," either. It's been... nice talking with you, and I'd miss that."

Lance blinks up at him, eyes sparkling. 

       "Really?!"

"Sure." 

Without warning, he launches forward to drench him in a hug. 

        "Thank you, dudeman. You're a wonderful crab!" 

"That’s the nicest thing anyone's ever called me."


	7. Chapter 7

After a month of recovery, Keith deems him well enough to get the fuck out. He's not very happy about it, but he keeps his word by complying. His only retaliation is sad puppydog eyes when Keith tells him it's time to go. Keith feels like an absolute monster, but he knows the dude needs to be able to actually swim and not live in a cramped box. Seriously, it looks painful the way he contorts himself to keep wet. At the least, it has to be uncomfortable. 

Back before the binds were removed, Lance had to waddle around like a penguin. Now, he has unlimited mobility, but he still looks ridiculous walking. It’s like he has foam noodles for legs and diving flippers for feet. Keith isn't sure how he can stand on them, let alone maneuver them at all. He’s about as graceful and fast as a crocodile on land, but in the water... holy shit. 

They had rowed to another isolated cove, far closer than the one Lance had first brought him to. The furthest wall is high enough to stay permanently dry, and there are holes in the ceiling where rays of sun shine through, warming water and ground alike. A variety of vegetation thrives there, and they even spot tiny critters like hermit crabs and minnows in the tidal pools. Keith bestowed upon him several weeks worth of canned fish with tab lids, in addition to a much better solar charger and the phone. He looked the other way when Lance stole his towels. They were from the consignment store, anyway, so their replacements would be cheap.

After connecting to the nearby Mickey D's WiFi (Keith is somewhat impressed that they would bother conquering an island with such a small population), Lance offers to guide him back. That's when it happens: he hobbles and bounces hilariously to the water's edge, then dives in with a splash. His tail reforms in all of its fishy glory, and he starts swimming around like a majestic madman. Keith can hardly keep his eyes trained on him with the sheer speed and agility he uses, blending in with the sparkling blue waves until he surfaces for flashy, acrobatic jumps and twists like a literal dolphin. 

Keith just kinda stands there, staring in awestruck silence for an indefinite amount of time. He only snaps out of it when Lance swims back over to the rock he's on, hoisting himself up halfway. 

      "Man, you were right... I missed this. As long as you keep bringing me food, I'll be happy as a clam! 

      ... So, are we gonna go yet, or do you wanna admire my fine tail a little longer~?"

He wiggles it for emphasis. Keith is mortified.

"I was waiting for you to finish... whatever that was."

      " _Shore_ you were," he winks, flashing another sharp-toothed smirk.

"Seriously?!"

       "Hah, don't worry. Just playin'."

He huffs, hopping back into the raft and following after him.


	8. Chapter 8

Keith comes back the next day with his cleaning gear and sets to collecting all of the trash he can see. Lance gathers the stuff under the waves and on the ocean floor, parting with them reluctantly.

      "You've never even triedplastic! The hard kind is so fun to cronch..."

Keith silences him with a glare.

"It’s not safe for consumption, and it  _will_ kill you."

      "Yeah, yeah; you already read me the riot act... I just feel like those scientists are trying to stop me from living my life," he sighs. 

      "... The bags are so chewy, and they get stuck in my teeth when I pull them apart. It’s like you with popcorn!"

"Thanks for that image."

      "At least try one! Pleeeease?"

"Why in the everloving fuck would I do that?!"

      "Because... YOLO."

...

"I hate you, and I hate that you're a grown-ass adult who uses Gen Z slang."

      "Glub you too~"

Lance rinses off the nearest grocery bag, then waves it in front of him excitedly. He avoids his gaze, snatching it so that he'll stop.

"Just once, and then you're not allowed to bring it up or sneak anymore forbidden snacks." 

      "Deal!"

He grimaces, looking over the thing to ensure that it's only covered in salt. It appears relatively clean, but he doesn’t want to chance even one awful sand crunch.

Lance is still watching with anticipation. He really is insufferable.

Slowly, he raises it. He braces himself before taking a bite.

Thanks to his flat teeth, he has to struggle for it to barely rip. He gives the piece a couple chomps before spitting it out like a dog with asparagus. He gags in disgust, then rinses his mouth with Monster.

"... I don't know what I was expecting. That was one of the worst experiences of my life."

      "You're just being a drama queen. They’re the shit!"

"We're done talking about it. Never again."

      "Ugh, fine... What about anchovies? You ever try them? They're so-"

"NO."


	9. Chapter 9

They fall into a routine: Keith picks up trash on the beaches during his daily jog and unloads it at the town center, then he rows to the cove. He's been running out of litter on land, as there isn't a tourist problem here. The only additions wash up and blow over from surrounding places and boats, maybe even dumps on the other side of the world... At least he's been clearing it away to the point that it barely needs to be maintained. He can focus on the shit in the ocean now. 

He definitely wouldn't be able to do it without Lance. He just collects whatever is tossed to him, from heaps of netting to empty oil drums to even more bottles and bags, countless cigarette butts, soda pack rings, and so forth. They find some pretty odd treasures, too. He has to take the knockoff Barbie doll rather forcefully to stop Lance's inappropriate make-believe. 

Keith makes anywhere from three to five trips on good days. Lance is really fucking strong now that he's back in peak health. Like, goddamn. He’s still a noodle, but he's all lean muscle and he can hoist junk half his weight over his shoulder like it's no biggie. Everything he does seems effortless, and Keith almost envies that. Images of him dicking around and performing inhuman feats plague Keith while he sweats and struggles like a normal person to stay in shape.

It’s not fair. Lance doesn't even lift.


	10. Chapter 10

      "Care to join me? The water's just right~"

"You say that every time. I'll end up freezing my balls off, getting caught in a rip current, or, I don’t know, stepping on mystery slime. No thanks."

      "C'mon, don't be a _wet towel_... You smell like rotten seaweed, and... Yeesh, you're way too hot!"

"Astute observations. Stop messing up my hair."

      "... Keith, if you don't jump in, I'm going to take drastic measures to cool you off and destankify you." 

"No, you damn well better not."

He's a force of nature, unstoppable. Keith shrieks in horror as he resurfaces, dousing him with copious amounts of water from his blowhole like one of those stupid fish fountains. He coughs and sputters, then sobs in disgust. 

      "What? I helped!"

"Did you just fucking shoot water out your ass at me?!"

      "Uh... No? Depends."

"On what, Lance?! What could it possibly-"

      "Wait... Hah, dude, do you know what a blowhole is?"

...

"On normal mammals, yes. They're not positioned... there."

      "That’s because I'm not a normal mammal, baby! My "ass" ass is in the front."

"... I didn't need to know that."

     "Hey, you asked!"

"Fine, whatever; I'm already traumatized. Fuck you and the ass wave you rode in on."

     "You're welcome~"

"Stop!"

     "Stop what?"

"Stop punctuating your sentences with tildes- that flowy vocal thing you add to the last word. It's creepy."

     "No, it’s not! It's friendly and playful."

"Example, non-tilde: "See you later." Tilde: "See you later~" Inarguably creepy, unless you're both planning to do more than just look at each other." 

      "You're too serious. You just can't handle someone who isn't boring!" 

"Lance."

      "Ok, ok. Jeez, sorry..."


	11. Chapter 11

      "Oookay, buddy. You’re overheating big time. At least take a break..." 

"I'm on a roll here," he huffs, stacking the gasoline tank pieces beside him.

      "Not like you'll be good for anything if you knock yourself out. It can wait! C'mon, I don't want to have to Ariel you again... Pal. Amigo. Comrade. Douchecanoe. Clam ass. Ugly barnacle- Keith, are you even listening?"

"No."

Lance sighs, sinking lower and blowing bubbles from his nose defeatedly. Keith is  _really_ going to hate him for this...

He positions himself like an eel getting ready to strike, waiting until his hands are empty. Without warning, he springs up and launches himself in midair. In that moment, everything seems to slow down. He grabs Keith, scooping him up bridal style before landing on the other side of the boat with a splash. Keith flails, gasping as soon as he surfaces.

Lance is fully prepared for another tirade, but it doesn't come. Keith keeps moving his arms and legs wildly, attempting in vain to get over to the boat. Lance calls his name, and he doesn't respond, still breathing erratically. 

Oh, fuck. He’s panicking. Lance may have fucked up. 

Quickly, he gathers him in his arms again. Keith just clings to him in silence like a lifeline.

      "... Shit, I'm so sorry. I didn't-"

"I can't swim." 

... 

      "Ohhhhh... Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Thought it was pretty damn obvious."

      "Maybe I'm just stupid, but I can’t think of a single time you mentioned it. The drowning part could've been a hint, but people drown for lots of reasons... Goddammit, I didn't mean to- to-"

"I know. Don’t worry."

      "Ok, well, you're gonna learn how to swim. You had no business being out here like that! Do the other humans know?"

He shrugs.

      "Listen, I'll be your sexy coach and teach you how to not die. You gotta master the bare basics, and then you can do whatever. Sound good?"

He nods reluctantly, and Lance has to pry him off to plop him back in the boat like a cat in a tub. As soon as he's in, he sifts through the junk for his life vest and buckles it shakily. It may be a bit too late, but hey, at least he can feel safe... He just hates how it makes him look like a tool. Seriously, that's the only reason he stopped wearing it. 

Not that the sparse beachgoers are judging his fashion, and Lance obviously doesn’t care, considering he lives in the nude. He’s technically not even allowed to be rafting without a vest on the coast guards' watch... 

      "You ok?"

"I'm an idiot sandwich," he mumbles.


	12. Chapter 12

They start out in the shallows by the cove a day later, giving Keith time to recover. He strips down to his shorts, begrudgingly ditching the vest after Lance told him that he wouldn't be able to learn with it on.

      "You'd just be bobbing around like a cork. Besides, who needs a life vest when you have me~?" 

He winks yet again, and Keith just sighs, ignoring the return of his sporadic flirtiness. He wades out until he's up to his waist, watching a crab scuttle away to safety. If the water wasn't so deep, he'd probably try to feed them... It’s wild, tossing over a crumb and watching them chow down with their freaky alien mouths. He thinks the babies in the tidal pools probably see him as a deity, clambering over to his hand when he shows up now that they're used to him... The tiny shrimp are cute, too- Actually, all of the inhabitants are adorable. He gets finger kisses from minnows, for crying out loud.

      "Crab?"

"Yeah." 

      "... Are you gonna eat it, or can I?"

"What?! No! You have more than enough nonliving snacks." 

      "Relax, I was just ruffling your kelp." 

"What does that even mean?" 

      "It's a metaphor. I come up with them on the fly because I'm so fly- flying fish... Ok, that was bad." 

"2/10."

...

      "So, uh, you ready?" 

He nods apprehensively, and Lance warns him that he's going to pick him up before doing so. He learns proper form and practices treading in place to stay afloat, alternating arm and leg strokes to get from one end of the cove to another... He's exhausted by the time Lance calls it quits two-and-a-half hours later.

      "You did pretty good for your first lesson! Same time tomorrow?"

"Gimme two days," he groans, slumping onto the towel pile. Lance concedes to that, wiggling over to join him and folding his arms behind his head. They doze off to the sounds of gulls and waves as the gentle breeze and warm sun dry him. (Lance always soaks two towels and wraps himself like a burrito to keep wet when he wants to stay on shore for a while.)

He’s too tired to row back for the night, so he opts to sleep there and breaks out his emergency stash of actual food and fresh water. Lance turns it into a slumber party, marathoning terrible Vine compilations, 2010 YouTube Poop, and the likes.

Thanks to being so far away from light pollution, it's a choice spot for stargazing. Neither of them knew that that week was the height of the Perseids, so they flip the fuck out when they see their first meteors. 


	13. Chapter 13

"If I have to spear one more menstrual product, I might actually puke. How do they even end up here?! Does everything end up here?"

      "You know, I'm with you. It’s disgusting..."

"Thank fuck, because I don't think I could handle the knowledge of-"

      "Ew, no, I'm not that gross! I have standards, Keith."

He sighs in relief, tying the latest full bag before taking his gloves off and starting to row to shore. There's only so much a dude can handle, mentally and physically. 

When they arrive, they opt to chill in the water, watching the clouds overhead as the midday sun beats down. Keith is getting used to not almost drowning- it helps to have a friend to float on. He's trying to relax; Lance makes it look so easy, but he's a ball of nervous guilt. Luckily, Lance is equally easy to talk to. He could tell him that he still secretly likes MCR and he wouldn't blink. Ok, he might laugh, but at least his secrets are safe. The universe seems to be pressuring him into another soul-spilling session right about now. Sharing is caring, probably. That's how real broships are made.

"... I used to smoke. For about a year, but then I had to deal with withdraw in order to keep a roof over my head. It’s addicting, just like the police furry said... Looking back, the worst part was that I never even bothered to can the butts."

      "Heh, you said butts."

"I'm serious! And- And get this: I drank from _water bottles-_ the kind you can't reuse, every day. And then... I didn't even recycle them. I didn't recycle anything!"

      "Holy shit, dude, are you crying?"

"No! ... Maybe. That's not the point, Lance. The point is that I probably killed dozens of innocent-"

      "Hey. Hey, c'mon. You didn't mean to."

He maneuvers upright to look at Keith, who avoids eye-contact.

"... I could have killed you."

... 

He hugs him, at a loss for words. Keith tenses up, but gradually eases into it, reciprocating as he rests his chin on his shoulder. Oh, wow, he's a clinger. Lance appreciates that.

      "Don't live in the past, man. So you screwed up! Everyone does. At least you know better now. Besides, do you see anyone else picking up the grossest stuff in the world just to keep randos safe?"

"That's not a fair question. There are, like, a couple hundred people on this island, max, and most of them are feeble geezers."

    "Yeah, well, you're the one unfucking the ocean!"

"Because I legally have to."

     "Nah. If that was the only reason, you wouldn't knock yourself out like this every day. You're a big softie; you just don't wanna admit it."

...

"I’m sorry-"

      "Shhhh. Stop beating yourself up- you're gonna make me sad."

Hugging Lance is a nice kind of weird. He's more slippery in some areas than others, and his fins and gills push against him in a noticeable manner. He feels like he's being forgiven by some humanoid fish god for his wrongdoings- a faulty, mortal one with a plastic fetish. 

It’s the best experience of his twenty-one years to date.


	14. Chapter 14

      "... This, uh, this shore is one whale of a hugboat we're riding."

...

"Do you make more puns when you're uncomfortable? Because-" 

      "What? No! I love lovins. It’s just... been a while since I've had any real action," he laughs nervously.

He frowns, tightening his hold in silent understanding. He can't actually remember the last time he was affectionate with anyone in any form. He's no stranger to wrapping pillows and blankets around himself to simulate comfort and safety. In worse moments, he tries to imagine what his mom looked like and picture her by his side... If he had known that that fateful day would be the last time his dad dropped him off at school, maybe he wouldn't have been too embarrassed to hug him back. Maybe he would have even acknowledged the "Love ya, shortstack. Be good."

Oh, wow, that was the worst possible thought train to go down right now. He tries in vain to still his nerves, but if Lance notices him shaking, he doesn't say anything. His throat is growing tight, and his vision blurs with tears threatening to spill. Fuck, he feels pathetic.

He's grateful that Lance seems content to stay like that as they float there, waves rocking them rhythmically. After a moment, he starts to murmur a song. He doesn't have a silky siren voice, but it's soothing all the same.

      " _Lo que arrastran las mareas puede ser reemplazado por mayores alegrías... Si me voy, mi amor siempre quedará. La vida y la muerte son una sola gran ola. Deja que la canción de cuna del océano te traiga paz..."_

He doesn't even know what he's singing, but the tears fall freely now. It’s like a heavy weight was lifted off his chest, one that had been there for so long that he forgot what it was like to live without it.

Slowly, his breaths even out as he's grounded back in reality. He realizes that Lance has been doing his share of crying, too (an impressive display of multitasking), and, while he doesn't want the dude to be sad, it makes him less embarrassed over the whole thing. Once it's clear that he's all sung out, Keith rubs his back awkwardly.

"You’re- You... Nice flex."

      "Bullshit," he chuckles. "I sound like a seal."

"Nah. You have pretty decent vocal chords, considering you live in salt water."

      "... My abuelita used to sing that for us. Thought it was worth a shot, heh..."

"Thanks, and... sorry for... all of this. Your arms must be tired."

      "Nope," he hums. Keith doesn't have the energy to protest, just letting him pull him to his chest as he lays back against a seaweed-covered boulder. He lowkey never wants to let go... Hopefully he won't have to anytime soon. 


	15. Chapter 15

They talk, a lot. Keith tends to tune him out when he's just spewing hot air, but he occasionally manages to get a laugh out of the otherwise solemn dumbass. To make matters worse, Lance discovered social media and started forwarding memes and spamming him with original shitposts at all hours. (He's learning how to read and type properly, in exchange for the swim lessons.) When he found Keith's inactive accounts, he goaded him into redownloading their apps just to accept his friend requests. He had always kept to himself, with few contacts. Lance went and added a gazillion strangers. Naturally, he overshares, but he has no intention to reveal himself as an aquatic cryptid. He's having a whale of a good time, though, and often gets ridiculous in his human-posing.

**went for a walk on the beach with @LoneWolfOfADesolateWasteland and got pedicures after!! #treatyoself**

**stretchin my calves! #legday**

**69 followers babey!!!!! #mvps #keepitcrispy**

**this is for u thirsty cuties 😘** [heavily edited, waist-up selfies and a gun show]

 **keith wears crocs when no one's looking** **\- with Keith Kogane** [photographic evidence]

 **he has crabs! 😱 - with Keith Kogane** [A photo of Keith holding hermit crabs, unaware that Lance is taking a selfie with him. Tragically, he can't show off his whole face in it. He makes do with filters on other occasions.]

[a plethora of SpongeBob memes, ocean/trash pics, shared pinup mermaids and seafood dishes, hippie activism links, late-night sad posts, stories about his family, and so forth]

 **@LoneWolfOfADesolateWasteland your fursona??** [link to Shadow the Hedgehog fanart]

"Lance..."

      "Hm?"

"Can you at least stop with the Bubble Blast invites?" 

      "Why? I get extra sanddollars each time!"

"That's great, but whenever my phone goes off, I think there's an emergency. And, you know, sleep is a thing that I need."

       "Yeah, yeah. Fine," he huffs.

"Thanks."

      "Not welcome."

He smirks, continuing to sculpt their ginormous castle. Lance adds a couple more shells and some dried kelp as decor, then sticks a toy princess atop it.

      "Man, I wish  _I_ had a place this ritzy... Ooh, wait!"

Keith raises a brow as he rifles through the nearest trashbag, selecting junk to furnish a shoe sole.

       "This is my yacht- no touchy."

"Very classy. I'm jealous."

       "If you beg enough, I'll make you one~"

"Nah; I want a waverider."

With that, he grabs bendy straws, fishing line, and a dome lid, assembling them.

       "Hm, that almost looks badass... But you can't beat my  _battle cruiser!"_

"... That's literally just a soda bottle."

       "Not if you're creative!"

...

       "Let's play human war!"

"You’re on."

Being mature adults, they race to the water with their open bottles and cans of Coke and Pepsi to see who can sink the other's fleet first.


	16. Chapter 16

Lance has been acting strange. Stranger than usual, that is.

He's started initiating tussles and surprise attacks, the former being preferred by Keith. Sure, it helps to strengthen physical skills and blow off steam, but there's a constant risk of it becoming like Turkish oil wrestling in the shallows. 

"... Did you just  _bite_ me?!"

      "Mhmm. Whatcha gonna do a-boat it, huh?" he grins, splashing him with his tail. Keith dodges it, then kicks his slippery ass away. 

"Humans don't do this shit... Your claws are sharp enough! If you break the skin, I'll be shark bait," he grumbles, tracing the mark. 

      "Heh, whatever. I've never even seen sharks here."

He glares. Lance looks aside in nervous guilt.

      "... Ok, sorry. You bald monkeys are so fragile," he sighs.

"Apology accepted." 

Keith extends his hand for a truce and promptly gets him in a headlock. 

      "Oysterfucker!!!"

"You're the one who's always on me about keeping my guard up," he chuckles, giving a good-natured noogie as Lance struggles. 

      "I'm only using five percent of my power to let you feel strong. You don't wanna mess withhnnnn..."

He goes lax in his hold. Keith's eyes widen, and he removes his hand from its current position behind his ear fin.

"Are you ok?! Fuck, did I hurt you? I'm so sorry-"

Lance blinks slowly, appearing confused.

      "Wh... What? No... Why'd you stop?"

... 

Countless thoughts and options rush through The Mullethead. Does he change the subject? Release him and raft out of there? Ask him what in the fresh hell is going on? ... Go back to playing with his fins? No. No, this came out of nowhere, but how could he prepare for it, anyway? He wants to tease him to break the awkward silence, but Lance looks so... vulnerable now. He's pretty sure his pupils dilated. In other circumstances, he would have laughed at that. 

"Sorry. I was trying to antagonize you, not... whatever I did instead."

      "... Oh. Yeah, hah. Forgot how different our bods are for a sec there..."

He helps him upright, then leaves a modest amount of space between them.

...

"Was that the equivalent of you sticking your hand in my pants?"

      "Uh, I don't know! They're just sensitive. It felt... nice."

Keith gulps. 

"... Nice in the sex way, or-"

      "No, no. Maybe? ... It depends on who's doing it, I guess- The guppies fall asleep that way, but all ages like it for different reasons with different people they trust. It’s super relaxing, so I zonked out! That's all."

...

"Do- So- You... want me to rub your ear things?"

       "Ugh, this is so stupid-dumb-embarrassing... I'm sorry for making it weird; you don't-"

He freezes up, shivering as Keith gingerly strokes along the grooves. As ethereal as the wave-like swirl structures, gradients of translucent blue, and iridescent shimmer are, the fins are sturdy and durable (and, like the rest of him, thankfully not slimy), with way more cartilage than human ears. Maybe because of their importance- functioning as sonar or some shit? Keith is suddenly interested in learning mer biology.

"They're... cool. They look like blown glass, but with a glow-in-the-dark mode." 

      "Thanks," he mumbles, eyes already half-closed. Shit, that's downright adorable. 

This time, Keith is the one easing them against the nearest kelp-covered rock, letting him lay his head in his lap to work on both at once. Lance is soon asleep with a goofy smile plastered to his face.


	17. Chapter 17

For better or worse, it only escalated from there. The roughhousing became full-blown play fights, during which Keith would sometimes wonder if the dude was actually trying to drown him. Those moments in which he would entertain the idea were brief and only occurred when he was caught off-guard and losing. Rationally, Lance didn't strike him as the type to launch a surprise siren attack. 

On that note, though, Lance has been pretty transparent in his attempts to dial up the charm. His behavior is truly bizarre. Making odd clicks and sounds with his nonhuman vocal chords, doing funny dances and maneuvers, spontaneous chomping (which Keith put an end to), gift-giving... If Keith was anyone but himself, he'd be inclined to think he was being wooed. As such, he's mostly just confused. 

      "Hey! Hey, Keith! Heads up!!!"

Keith glances backwards just in time to catch the fourth random object of the day, a broken fidget spinner. 

"... What am I supposed to do with this?"

      "I dunno, put it with the rest? Not my problem!"

"I'm sorry, but I don’t have space for... any of these things, to be honest. Can't you just store 'em in one of the coves?"

       "Nah, I don't want to hoard any of that junk. It’s yours now!"

"Thanks, really." 

Lance just flashes a grin and makes another chirping noise, then dives back under the waves to continue his explorations. Keith sighs, tying the latest full bag of trash before hopping in after him to cool off. 

The water is a welcome reprieve from the scorching heat, crystal clear and peaceful. Sunlight reflects off the surface like a cut gem, dazzling but almost blindingly bright. 

A few weeks ago, he could hardly see the sand. They must have pulled tons of garbage up from this area alone. 

An immediate reward was being able to swim freely, but a long-term one was the gradual return of native sealife. More and more quirky creatures made themselves known to him as time passed, some so intriguing and unidentifiable that he's found himself jotting down notes and doodles to look them up at home. The ocean is weird as hell, for sure, but there's so much beauty in it. Who cares about extraterrestrial life when there's all of these freaky things still waiting to be discovered? The possibilities somewhat terrify him, though. He has no intention to go out into the dark depths that obscure those mysteries.

Even Lance is afraid of the deep ocean, which surprised him. While neither of them can even physically make it down there, they have sufficient nightmare fuel thanks to Google. 

"The blobfish is a fucking tragedy." 

      "Ya know, I agree. If I got yoinked to another realm and lost all of my natural handsomeness, I'd cry or die... Maybe both. Yeah, I'd cry and _then_ die."

"Sounds like that's what they do."

      "Damn human scientists, stickin' their bottlenoses where they don't belong..."

"Hey, at least there are no known mer incidents."

      "Yeah..." 

Lance floats backwards apathetically, drawing in water from his gills to spit like a sad fish fountain again. 

"Doesn't mean they're not still out there somewhere," he offers. 

      "Dude, I could spend my whole life looking and only cover a fraction of the ocean. It’s too big!"

"... Maybe."

      "You're not supposed to agree with me," he grumbles. 

"I'm just saying, we'll never know unless we try."

...

_"We?"_

"Yeah, why not? What the fuck else do I have to do with my life?"

He's not prepared for the tacklehug that follows.


End file.
